In Their Navel's Caesuras Poem by Robert Rorabeck

And unicorns eating lunch underneath the
Overpass avoiding the roses
As they gossip—gossip:
"The roses are too beautiful—beautiful"
For lunch—
And I rode by them on my bicycle on
My way home
On the weekend underneath the airplanes that
Could be leaping anywhere,
They were paid to be up to so many chances—
Yes, like wishes—wishes in
And evaporated wishing well,
As the moon swung her hips and then swung
Her shoulders:
And I thought to the busy cemetery—cemetery
Even though she wasn't going anywhere;
"Where have you buried my pretty love—
Oh, cemetery—Oh, where? "
She said, "Look up into the pretty sky,
Since that is where I've buried her—since that is
Where I-"
But even then I could not see her, lost in
The house as she was lost with her man—
And clouds accumulating, blinding the lighthouse
With their caracoles,
As the waves galloped abandoned,
At once bosomy and lapsing in their navel's
Caesuras.